After Glow
by GuiltyPleasures24
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Grey are about to embark on a honeymoon like no other. This story is set right after the wedding, it's an in-depth look at the Grey's in their early days of marriage. It's a playful story about travel, sex, and fun.
1. Chapter 1

**After Glow**

**Chapter 1:  
**

**-Ana-  
**

I was just a child when my mom married Ray. I was young, too young to remember the fine details of the day, but now and then I remember Ray in his suit, and mom in her white dress; smiling, dancing, and sipping champagne. I remember Ray holding me in his arms, gliding me across the dance floor, dipping me. He told me he loved my mom and I. He said that he would take care of us, and that we would be happy. Ray made good on his promise, and even though the marriage didn't last, he was always there for us, and always would be.

By marriage number four, the novelty of weddings ceremonies wore off. They seemed to get smaller in size. Mom sent out half as many invites for her wedding to Stephen, and only a quarter of the guest who RSVP'ed showed up. When she married Bob, she didn't even bother with it. They had a quiet ceremony at City Hall, and the three of us had dinner at her favourite Italian restaurant. It was nice, indicative of the quiet and simple love they share for each other.

When it came to my wedding, I'd of loved nothing more than a quiet ceremony, Kate by my side, Elliot by Christian's. We'd take our vows in front of an audience of six: Mom and Ray, Grace and Carrick, Ethan and Mia. What else could we possibly need? I couldn't care less about venues, and dresses and food. I just wanted to hold the hand of the man I love, and promise to love, and respect and cherish him always. I wanted to be married. I wanted to skip the wedding frenzy and start the honeymoon. But nothing about our relationship was quiet or simple. Our love was loud and complicated from day one. And when you're about to marry Seattle's most eligible bachelor, billionaire Christian Grey, you had better believe your wedding would be regal.

My dress was a Sarah Burton design. The bodice was tight and pushed my cleavage up and out. The lace of the long-sleeves came up my arms and continued over the soft white satin of the gown. It had a simple narrow skirt that began at my natural waist and fell to my heels, followed by a short train. At least my dress was simple. It was the only thing I had complete control of. The rest was Grace and Kate and Mia, chiming in like little birds in my ear, until I gave them what they wanted. I wore my hair down, in soft, loose ringlets. A crown of silver beaded flowers held my blusher vale in place. My make-up was natural; pink cheeks, nude lips, and soft peach eye-shadow to compliment the blue of my eyes. In all, the look was a simple kind of elegance, an emblem of who I was and who I remained to be, despite the lavish lifestyle I was about to inherit.

It was an afternoon ceremony, held in Carrick and Grace's back yard. I walked down the aisle, knees shaking as at least three hundred guests looked on, I thought of nothing but Christian. He was standing there looking hotter than ever in a black three-piece, and bow-tie. I'd never seen him in a bow-tie; I smiled instinctively as my mind began to think of other uses for it. When I reached the end of the aisle, Christian took my hand and helped me up three steps to the platform. And as we stood there, face-to-face, our eyes met, imploring one another in a desperate search for meaning. I could tell he was worried about me. All eyes were on me, and he knew how much I hated to be in the limelight. I smiled and my eyes softened. I didn't care about this; I didn't care who was watching. I would go to a hundred galas for him. I would perform on Broadway. Hell, I'd compete in the Hunger Games, and win, if my prize was Christian. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, he was worth it.

The ceremony was beautiful. We married in the afternoon sun, and danced in the twilight. It was a haze of food, and music and guests in my ear, kissing me, congratulating me, dancing with me. The night flew by; I had barely noticed how tired my feet were, or how sore my cheeks were from smiling so hard. By the time it ended, I had a bit of a champagne buzz worsened by fatigue and an empty stomach. I said goodbye to my friends and family, and before I knew it, we were in a black limo headed straight to Sea-Tac.

"Christian?" I said after a long silence. He was sitting motionless with his head back in his seat, staring at the stars from the open sunroof.

"Christian?" I said again, calling him back from his place of ether. He turned to me, dazed and confused, and I giggled.

"Are you alright?" I asked. He sighed deeply and reached to undo his seatbelt. Then he reached for mine and just as soon, I was free. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his lap.

Without a word, he held me. It was such a familiar position, Christian cradling me in his lap, one hand around my waist, holding me against his chest, protecting me, as the other hand trailed up and down the length of my spine. I kissed his forehead then buried my face in his neck. His bow-tie grazed my cheek, and I noticed it for the second time tonight, but this time with less zeal. It was tight, and his neck and shoulders were stiff beneath the layers. That's when I realized how done-up we were. Neck-ties, and bodice s and garter belts. So many items restricting our movement, so many layers between skin. I pulled away shaking my head.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked.

"Too much clothes." It came out like a desperate whine and Christian laughed. I unfastened his tie, pulling it off completely and discarding it somewhere on the floor, making a mental note to retrieve it later. I reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first, and then the second, before Christian stopped me.

"Ana" he said sternly. It was a familiar tone, like a desperate warning. He didn't like where this was going, but he didn't mean to stop me. He grabbed my hands and steadied them in my lap.

"Believe me, I want you just as much as you want me, but am I to have you here, in the back of a limo? It's our wedding night Ana."

"Well aren't you the romantic." I said sulking. It was a far cry from the man I met a few months ago, a man I was sure _would_ have me in the back of his limo, or in his office, or the sex cave he called 'the playroom'. I thought he was all chains and whips and non-disclosure agreements, boy was I wrong. That was just _one_ of his fifty shades.

Evidently Christian noticed the impatience in my eyes. He tipped my chin so I could face him and beamed before closing in for a kiss. It was deep, and passionate, and made my breath hitch in my throat. His tongue in my mouth, pushing against mine, tasting me. I thought I might come apart but his arms around me tightened, sensing my need for him.

Sometimes he made me feel so desperate. Like the shattered world was falling around me, and I clung to him in a moment of need. He kept me in one piece, and with the sheer force of his arms he put the world back together and made everything right.

His kiss and my sudden awareness of my need for him, created a fiery pool in my middle. I was wet for him. Wet for the thought of him. Wet from his arms around me, from his lips upon mine, the taste of vodka lingering in his breath, the smell of his sweat and the ashen rose scent of his cologne.

Right now, the only thing greater than my need for Christian was my need for air; I broke the kiss with a gasp and moan that made clear my desire for him. If he thought that kiss would hold me over until we made it to our destination, he was seriously mistaken. As much as I appreciated the sentiment of a traditional wedding night, he had to know there was nothing traditional about our relationship, and I liked it that way.

I shuffled my weight around, hiking my skirt so I could straddle him. Boy, was I glad to have went with a narrow skirt, and not the ball gown Kate and Mia suggested. That would have made this all the more difficult. I fought against Christian who struggled beneath me, pushing my hips back, and away from the rising bulge in his pants. It was a silent struggle, save for the moans and whimpers escaping our lips. Finally after a full minute, Christian relaxed. I fell down hard on him, and he moaned loudly as the lace of my underwear met his crotch.

"Ana I..."

"Shhh, Christian." I wasn't going to give him another opportunity to deny me of what I truly wanted in this moment.

"All day and all night, I thought of you, waiting to feel you inside of me. I can't wait any more Christian please don't make me." My voice was so small, I was literally begging for him. If he hadn't of just married me, I might have been embarrassed, but now I wasn't afraid to let him know how much I needed him.

He kissed my forehead. I thought he was going to tell me to slow down, to wait. I was about to break when I felt cold fingers push past my panties and plunge inside me. Up and down, he rubbed only stopping to pinch my clitoris lightly before exploring deeper into me.

"God, you're wet." He laughed.

"I told you!" I said. Taking that as the green light, I smiled and hopped off him, kneeling on the limo floor. The two fingers that were just inside of me, were now in Christian's mouth, he licked them slowly then pulled out. I bit my lip teasingly, enticing a moan from him. My turn.

I unbuttoned his trousers and pulled back his boxer-briefs, just enough for his glorious cock to pop out. It was already turning red from the blood that pooled there, standing hard and ready for release. I took it in my left hand, letting the cold silver of my wedding ring blend with the heat of my hand as I began to rhythmically pump up and down. My mouth joined in, taking him in, inch by inch until I could feel his tip at the back of my throat. My lips closed around him, and my head bobbed, up and down, in and out. His hands were in my hair, then on my back, on my arms. He was frantically grabbing at me, searching for something to hold on to, as his eyes clouded with want. Breathing between clenched teeth, his moans grew gradually louder, warning me of his eventual release.

It wasn't long before he came hard and fast into my mouth. I felt him on my tongue, the walls of my cheeks, my teeth and sliding slowly down my throat. I swallowed once, then again, and one last time as he emptied himself into me. I could do this all day.

I let go of his still erect penis, giving him a moment to come back to me. His breath was light and shallow. He looked at me with exhausted and equally exhilarated eyes.

"Your move, Grey."

He smiled a wicked smile, and shrugged out of his suit jacket before grabbed me by both arms until I was straddling him again. We were still fully dressed, but neither of us cared. My dress was too complicated and required too much effort to be removed. Christian found my legs beneath the layers of the skirt and followed them up, pushing up my dress as he did. He found my garter belt and let out a low growl, snapping it against the top of my thigh.

"Shit Ana" he breathed. I knew he couldn't resist thigh-highs, they were his weakness, I thought he might come again, just by looking at them. He pulled my hips closer, so my knees, bent on each side of him, were pressed up against the back of the seat. I braced myself up and with two fingers Christian pushed aside my panties so the flesh beneath them was exposed. He stuck one finger inside me, no doubt to make sure I was still ready. Of course I was. For him, I was always ready.

I pulled his hand away and took his cock in my hand, gently guiding it to my opening. Once he was inside of me I lowered myself down on him until he was filling me completely.

"Oh god, Christian" I whispered. My hands were in his hair, and around his neck. I rocked my hips, to keep up with the pace he had set. His hands were at my waist pulling me down harder and faster. Shit, I was going to come already.

"Christian" I breathed his name again. It was all I could do in my time of need. He was everywhere, he was all over me. His teeth at my neck, sucking and biting and licking me. His thumb at my clit dragging my wetness up and tracing small hard circles on my sensitive spot. His other arm moved beneath my dress, snaking around me till he found my ass, squeezing and spanking it. And that was it, that was all I needed to come undone.

"God Christian! Yes!" I came hard, exploding around him. My body pulsating in his arms as the heat of the liquid rushed through my sex making me feel like I was on fire. I was overwhelmed by his movements and the way he made me feel, I had barely noticed him quietly finding his own release. He was grunting, low and guttural through clenched teeth and I could feel him squirting into me. Hot and sticky, his juices blended with mine, adding to the hot sensation coursing through my body.

I was still shaking from the intensity of the moment. It didn't take long for this man and his perfectly erect cock to put me at ease. I know Christian was my only sexual partner, but he was so skilled, he knows, he just knows what I need, and he gives it to me every time.

"Ana" He said after a moment. "I tried. I really tried to keep it classy. It took everything I had not to tear you out of this dress with my bare hands and fuck you senselessly on the floor."

"That was an option?" I suddenly felt cheated.

"I just...I didn't want our first time as husband and wife to be so...unromantic."

"Unromantic!" I yelled, not realizing we were still face to face. "Christian I just begged you to take me and you did. You know everything about my body; you know how to please me. You touch me, and I'm gone. I don't need flower petals and candles and champagne, you know I don't. I just need to feel your hands on me, you inside of me, holding me. That's all I need." Tears rimmed my eyes and I began to cry. It was the buzz of the alcohol and the rush of emotions from earlier heightened by the oxytocin.

Christian wiped my tears and whispered into my hair.

"No baby, don't cry." He kissed my temple.

"Sorry, happy tears. I promise to keep it together. " The car was slowing down; we finally made it to Sea-Tac.

"So, should I have someone remove the flower petals, and candles and champagne from our room then?" He asked.

"Don't you dare, Grey!" I laughed and kissed him hard. Then, I climbed off him, to pull down my skirt and tousle my just-fucked hair. Christian put his little friend away, and fastened the buttons of his suit.

He helped me out of the car and into the early morning air. Charlie Tango, was being serviced and checked one final time. Taylor was removing our suitcases from the trunk. I counted six in total. I still had no idea where we were going; Christian meant to keep it a surprise until we landed. But I had a few ideas on how I could get it out of him before then.

"I wish you'd tell me where we were going." I said, wide-eyed and innocent.

"I wish you wouldn't bite your lip, Mrs. Grey. You know what that does to me."

"What does it do to you, Mr. Grey? I'm sorry, I don't recall." My inner goddess laughed. Good one.

"Come, let me show you." He said, taking my hand and leading me towards the plane.

My plan was working already.

**A/N: **With this story, I hope to chronicle the Grey's honeymoon, mostly through travel and sex and fun. Please review, and let me know what you think so far. I'm also opened to requests, so if there is anything you want to see let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Dear readers, many thanks for your support thus far! This chapter shows a slightly different side of Christian. Our Fifty has many shades, and this one is a bit of a softy. You've been warned!

**Chapter 2: **

**-Christian-**

I wasn't mad. I was just a little irritated, and more so at myself than Ana. I had planned everything out perfectly. As soon as we boarded the private plane, we would eat. I knew she hadn't eaten all day. At the reception, we were forced to play courteous hosts, making our way around the tent, greeting and thanking our guests, posing for pictures, dancing. There was no time for food, so I made sure a hot plate was waiting for us. And then for dessert, we would share a piece of our wedding cake, over a cup of tea to thwart her impending hangover.

When all was said and done, we would make our way over to the cabin suite, and I would make love to her. Her body would weaken under me, writhing in pleasure and emotion. Eventually, she would cum in a long, drawn out orgasm, and I would hold her tightly as her body convulsed beneath me. Then she would tell me how happy she was and when she asked me how I felt, I would kiss her deeply. My burning passion would sting her lips, and that would be the only response she'd need. I'd tell her I love her. Then we'd fall asleep. My arms wrapped around her. Her back to my front, my nose in her hair, and she'd dream of me.

It was going to be the perfecting ending to the happiest day of my life. I wanted to do this. I wanted to give her the sweetest sex to consummate our marriage. I wanted to show her that I could give her every flavour, and that I could be more than chains and whips. Ana wanted romance, and when I realized how much I needed her, I was ready to give her the world. But she asked very little of me, and she never wanted me to change. She changed for me. She made adjustments to her lifestyle so she could fit better into mine.

She helped me. She showed me that I could relinquish control and still feel gratification. She taught me how to enjoy the feel of her touch. And when she touched me, skin to skin; her hands, her breasts, her lips on me, I felt her love penetrating the walls I built around my heart. Until, brick by brick she tore it down, and I was hers completely.

But she couldn't wait. She needed to feel me inside of her as much as I wanted to be there. So I caved, and I let her ride me in the back of a moving vehicle. That's how we consummated our marriage. I was a little disappointed my plan had not worked, and I let it show on my face.

"What's the matter?" Ana asked. We were strapped in our seats, as the plane began its slow move down the runway.

"Mmm, nothing. It's really nothing." I said, and God help me if she thinks I'm going to tell her. To tell her with words would make me look weak and vulnerable. To show her, would make me look chivalrous. I preferred the latter.

"You're not still mad I jumped your bones, are you?" She kept her voice low so the nearby flight attendant didn't hear. But she was grinning in a way that suggested she was more proud of her accomplishment than concerned about my feelings.

"No, Anastasia." My response was sharp, and frank.

"Anastasia?" she said. "You are mad." She was right; I often reserved the use of her formal name for when I was upset, like a parent scolding their child. My voice relaxed.

"Ana, I'm not mad, really, I'm not. There is no one to blame but myself. I created the little sex-fiend you've become. I should be flattered you can't keep your hands off me."

"Should be, but..." she hesitated, "you're not." She raised an eyebrow accusingly. She knew, she always knew. It's funny, in the short time we've known each other she cracked my cryptic code and learned to read me like a book. I caved...again.

"Ana, since the first day I met you, our relationship has been defined by sex. I've fucked you a hundred different ways in a hundred different places. Tonight was going to be different. Like our first time all over again, better even. But you had to straddle me in the limo and beg me to fuck you through your wedding dress." My words were harsh. Well, she wanted the truth, didn't she?

Her cheeks burned red and she looked away, turning her attention to the lace of her white dress, smoothing out the creases left behind from our earlier encounter.

I remembered when she first climbed on top of me. I could feel the flesh beneath her panties, hot and wet, grinding against my crotch. I tried to push her away. My hands on her hips, pushing her back to put some distance between her body and my rising cock. It was a silent struggle. She pulled at my wrists, but I tightened my grip on her waist, pushing her back with more force. She cried out when my hands began to crush her hipbone. Then she dug her nails into my arm, and I groaned loudly. I eased up on her and she moved one hand to my hair, pulling my head back. She pulled my hair hard, the other hand still on my arm, nails piercing the surface of my skin.

My girl was a fighter, and it was damn sexy to watch. Her hair was wild; her blue eyes peered down at me, parted lips pouting before clenched teeth. It was clear who was in control, but by then my cock was stiff and throbbing for her. I started to speak, but she stopped me. She let go of my hair, and in a soft, weak voice, she begged for my body, returning control to me. She didn't know she had already won, but I gave her what she wanted. I fucked her.

And now I had embarrassed her by calling her out on her hastiness, and implying that she had singlehandedly ruined our wedding night.

"I'm sorry Christian. I didn't realize how we consummated our marriage was that important to you."

She didn't look at me when she spoke. She fucked up, and now she was punishing herself with an internal monologue of scolding. Insecure Ana was back. I wanted to reach out for her, to pull her into my lap and hold her.

As if on cue, the seatbelt sign turned off. The plane was well into the air, gliding quietly through the night. Captain Daniels came on the intercom and in a friendly voice, welcomed us onboard. He congratulated us, and informed us we would be arriving at our honeymoon destination in an indefinite amount of hours, but in the meantime we were free to move about the cabin. He was careful not to give away any information that could spoil the surprise.

His message was a welcomed interruption from the conversation we were having. It made Ana smile and look at me, finally. I undid my seat belt, and then hers, pulling her out of her seat and into my lap. She buried her face in my neck, and the mood between us lightened instantly.

"When are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked, her voice muffled against me.

"I'm not" I said, "I'm just going to show you."

"But Christian!" She pulled away so I could see her stick out her lip, pouting.

"Patience is a virtue, baby." We both laughed, the irony not lost on us.

The flight attendant approached us pushing a tray.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grey, are you ready for your meal?" She asked graciously. I gave her a polite smile, and said yes.

"Meal?" Ana asked me accusingly. "Christian, it's 1:30 in the morning!"

"I know what time it is Ana. I also know you haven't eaten since breakfast. Did you even eat breakfast?" She laughed. "Ana, I was going to ask you to humor me, or watch me eat, because I'm starving. But you're eating, even if I have to chew your food and force it down your throat myself." She bunched up her face in irritation and rose from my lap.

When she took her place across from me, the flight attendant lowered her tray and set a plate in front of her. It was nothing like the over-the-top, five course meal my mother had insisted we serve at the wedding. We were having chicken and roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, gravy and bread rolls. It was comfort food, it smelled delicious, and I knew Ana could not resist it.

The woman was about to pop a bottle of champagne when I told her we wouldn't be needing it. Ana huffed.

"No more. Just water, baby. I don't want you hung over tomorrow."

We ate, and talking about the wedding. I had met Ana's extended family for the first time tonight, and I was curious to learn more. As she talked, I made mental notes about names, and occupations, and cities, interested to learn more about my new family.

Then we had dessert. Ana protested, until she found out it was our wedding cake. She had barely tried it, save for the piece I was obliged to feed her during the cake cutting ceremony. We shared a piece over a cup of tea.

It was nearly 3am, when the attendant cleared our trays. Ana yawned, reminding me how long our day had truly been. I stood and ushered her into our cabin. Candles burned brightly in each corner of the room, while the bed looked warm and inviting. I too, was ready for sleep to take me.

"Um, Christian, will you help me with my dress?" Ana asked standing by the side of the bed. An innocent question really, but not so innocent a result.

I went over to her, and lifted her hair over to one shoulder. Her dress was tightly corseted at the back, with buttons that began at the nape of her neck and ran all the way down to the smalls of her back. I undid each button slowly, pushing the fabric in and out with my thumbs as each one came undone. More and more of her skin was exposed as I continued the process. I saw the strap of her bra, her spine, the lace of her garter belt. The whole show was fucking sexy, and when it was over, she pushed off the gown and carefully stepped out of it. She laid it on the chair by the bed, smoothing out the creases admiringly it. It really was the perfect dress for her. She made a beautiful bride, but she was just as beautiful out of the dress as she was in it.

I pulled her to me, so her back was against my chest. My arms rounded her and I hugged her just below her breasts. Her head fell back on to my shoulders and I trailed kisses along her neck and collarbone. The white lace theme continued with her underwear. I grabbed at her strapless push-up bar, seizing her firm breasts. I ran my hands down her stomach, over her garter belt, to her white laced panties and cupped the flesh beneath them. The sound of her hitched breathing made me hard, and I pressed against her back.

With a renewed sense of energy, I swept Ana off her feet and placed her gently on the bed. She parted her legs to make room for me, and I carefully climbed on top of her. I kissed her eagerly, tasting her as if for the first time. Her lips were so soft; I sucked, and pulled on them. I traced my tongue along her bottom lip and felt her tongue on mine. Her lips were kneading mine, her mouth massaging me, biting me. I had no idea how intimate it could feel to love somebody this way.

She unbuttoned my shirt, then my pants. I slid them off with my boxers, until I was lying naked on top of her. I kissed her again. First her lips, then her chin, her neck, her chest, each breast, one and then the other, until I worked my way down to her garter belt. I unfastened each clasp, carefully freeing them from the lace trim of her silk thigh-highs, before removing them completely; kissing the inside of her thighs as I slowly pulled them off. I pulled off her garter belt at once with her panties, eager to have her without restraint.

I was on my knees between her legs. She was naked and wet; her eyes closed waiting for my next move. I looked at her; I truly looked at her, brown hair falling across her face and shoulders, lips plump and parted, skin soft and pale, her pink nipples hard from my touch. She was so small and perfect, and I was ready to make love to her, to hear her speak my name in a cry of pain and pleasure. I was ready to make my home inside of her.

I turned her over to lie on her stomach and gently stroked her bare ass. I could feel goose bumps forming on her skin. I stretched myself out on top of her so my nose was in her hair and my mouth by her ears, nibbling on the skin of her lobe. My cock dangled between the folds of her ass and I heard her quietly gasp as if she came to some grand realization.

"Relax Ana." I knew what she was thinking. No. Not now, not yet.

I grabbed my cock and gently entered her. I felt her relax beneath me, and watched as she opening her tight fist when she felt me enter her from the front. Though it was a familiar feeling, it was a position we had not tried before. I began to grind against her slowly. My body moved rhythmically with hers, and she moaned.

I pushed my arms beneath her so my hands could find her clit and rub her in slow circles as I thrust further into her. From this angle I could stimulate every part of her body. I covered her completely with my body, her ass against me, my cock inside her, pushing down onto her most sensitive muscles, bringing her closer to orgasm.

"Uuugh!" She cried out, and buckled back, putting her weight on her knees so her ass was in the air. I pushed her back down and grabbed her wrists on each side of her body, pinning her to the bed, forcing her to feel all of me inside of her. She thrashed against me, but I gave her little room to ride it out. It was the proximity of our bodies that pushed her closer to the edge; she needed to feel me everywhere if she was going to cum like I wanted her to.

I pushed up against her, harder and faster, and she screamed out again in a loud cry that cut the silence of the room. Her breathing stopped for a moment. Her hands turning white from her death grip on the bed sheets. She came long and hard, and let out a loud moan when it was over. I continued at the same pace wanting more for her, because I knew she could do better than that.

"Christian I...aah!" My cock rubbed against her clit, teasing her. I knew it hurt, I knew she was throbbing, but pleasure outweighed pain every time.

"Cum for me, Ana, again." I whispered into her hair, and she did. She twisted and moaned into a pillow. The sound of her, and the way she felt inside of me, was all I needed to find my own release, pumping into her, until I filled her with everything I had. I was hot and sticky inside of her, and she came again, I think. Or maybe she was still convulsing from the last one. It didn't matter, but she still on a high.

I gave us both time to catch our breath, but she was still shaking when I pulled out. I rolled off of her, to lie on my back and pull her onto my chest. Her face was damp from tears and sweat, her breathing slow and shallow.

"You okay, baby?" I asked, kissing the top of her head. She nuzzled her face into my chest.

"Mmm, better than okay." She said. She was spent, so was I. "But Christian," she said after some time. "You know, you've never let me touch so much of you at once." I realized now what she meant. My whole body was on top of hers, every inch of our skin joining. It felt damn good.

"How do you feel?" she asked with concern in her voice.

I brought my lips to hers and whispered "better than ever" before I kissed her. Then I held her, and watched her fall asleep in my arms with a sweet smile that never left her lips.

The orange hues of the early morning sky came in from the windows, reminding me that soon we'd be in Europe. I could finally make good on my promise to give her the world. But for now, I'd fall asleep, basking in the light of her after glow.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Readers, I'm sorry for my extended absence. January has been unexpectedly busy. I promise to update more frequently. As always, a million thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows. Hope you enjoy the next chapter.

**Chapter 3: **

**-Ana-**

I woke to the sound of Christian softly breathing into my ear, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin. He kissed the hollow behind my ear and nuzzled his face in my neck.

"Ana", he whispered. I could hear him, and I could feel his body on top of mine. But as much as I wanted to be present, I couldn't be pulled from my reverie. My mind was groggy and clouded and my muscles were sore from disuse. I just needed a few more minutes, an hour tops. I wasn't ready for consciousness.

"Ana" he whispered again, a trace of humor in his voice.

"Mmm" I responded, eager for a few more minutes of uninterrupted sleep. But his lips were on me, tracing the curve of my jaw with his tongue; trailing kisses up and down the side of my face, making my flushed skin burn from the heat of his mouth.

"Mmmmmm" I moaned again, louder. I wasn't sure if the pleasure outweighed my irritation. I looked to my inner goddess for advice, but she simply yawned.

"It's time to get up, baby." Christian shook my hips beneath him and pressed his forehead to my chest.

"Five more minutes, please." My plea came out as more of a whine. He sat up, taking most of the bed-covers with him. I could feel goose-bumps beginning to rise all over my exposed body. I was stark naked, and he was on his knees leaning over me.

"Ana, we're going to be landing soon, you really must get up." I wasn't sure how long I'd been sleeping. Seven hours, maybe eight? Surely, it should have been enough, but any bride-to-be could tell you how little sleep you get leading up to the wedding. And yesterday was the longest day of my life; the best day, but also the longest. Relief, coupled with champagne and a night of intense love making was the perfect sedative, maybe too good.

"I can't right now, Christian. I'm busy." I said, turning over onto my stomach and burying my head in a pillow. If I couldn't see him, maybe he'd disappear.

"Ana, if you don't get up, you realize I'm going to have to make you." His tone was serious, not at all playful. He wasn't joking. That's when I felt his hand gliding down my back. He stopped when he reached my ass and began to rub small circles on one of my cheeks. Oh god, was this really happening? I turned over onto my back, hiding my face in my hands. He was shuffling around, and I could feel the weight of his body pressing the bed down beneath me.

"Please, Christian."

"Please what?" I could feel his lips pressed against my wedding ring, kissing it. I peered at him through my fingers, still sheltering my face from his. His eyes met mine, and he laughed lightly.

"Please what, Ana?" he said again. This man, was he going to make me beg for everything? Whatever, I'd happily beg for five more minutes of sleep if it meant he would grant me that one courtesy.

"Please, just let me...CHRISTIAN!" I shouted his name as he slammed into me. I threw my arms around his neck instinctively, like holding him closer was going to make it hurt any less than it already had. He was laughing into my neck while his fully erect penis remained buried inside of me. I'm not going to lie, it irritated me a little.

"Christian, what are you doing?"

"Waking you up the only way I know how." He rocked his hips a little and I winced in pain. Sensing I wasn't entirely ready for this, he licked a finger and brought it down to my sex, stroking my clit in slow circles. I felt my body heat up, and my inner goddess jolt awake. I could feel my whole body loosening up as Christian sucked and licked on my nipples, perking them up as he did.

Seconds, really, that's all it took for my pain to turn to pleasure. I could have stayed mad, but it was a stupid bone to pick, and who was I to deny my husband on our honeymoon? He sensed my defeat, and kissed me hard on the lips. He brought one hand down to my leg, and cupped the back of my knee, bring my leg closer to my chest and in the process, spreading my legs further apart. He began to move inside me, and it felt so good, I found myself moaning with every thrust. Christian was breathing heavily and groaning into my ear.

I think it was the sound of him, his pleasure, and the knowledge that it was me, and my body that could make him so desperate, that made me cum. I came as I always did, hard and fast, and when he finally spilled into me, the heat, and his pulsing erection, made me cum a second time.

When we were done, he jumped up, and began to dress.

"Ana, we're landing now. Get dressed and meet me in the cabin." He said before walking out. I had no plans to move until he popped his head back in the room and said, "Baby, if I have to come back in here to wake you up again, I promise it won't be pleasurable for either of us." I threw a pillow at his head, but missed.

I cleaned myself up and got dressed, donning an elegant crewneck t-shirt and yoga pants. I took my time in protest, hoping he would come back, but when the captain's voice came on the intercom, kindly asking us to take our seats; I figured my time was up.

I took my seat across from Christian, who was staring at me with his intense grey eyes.

"What?" I said after a long while. He pointed out the window. As the plane descended, lush green hills came into sight. It was miles of farmland, little houses, stretched across acres of green space. Specks, of what I could only assume were animals, horses, and sheep maybe?

"Christian, where are we?"

"Just outside of Dublin. But not for long."

"What?"

"We're just stopping to refuel."

"Then?"

"London."

"Christian!" For the second time this morning, I screamed his name. I bet he loves to make me do that. He laughed and handed me a brochure that said 'Visitor's Guide to London.'

"What are we going to do, Mrs. Grey?"

"Everything!"

And we did, we truly did. We spent six days in the city and I ran around like a frantic tourist trying to do and see everything. Christian was always a few paces behind me, as I dragged him through the city, from one historical site to the next. I had always been fascinated by English history, ever since I was a little girl. I took great pride in knowing all about the monarchs and the great and terrible events of their era. I was particular interested in Elizabeth I. She was a fearless leader whose power knew no bounds. Where independent women were concerned, she was queen bee, literally.

Her father however, he was something else. The wives of Henry VIII were also an area of great fascination for me, Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn and Kathryn Howard especially. Whether it was a devotion to Henry, a need for power, or the love of another man; I knew what it was like to want so desperately, that nothing else mattered; even your own safety. A small part of me empathized with these women, now more than ever. At the height of their reign, these were the most powerful women in the world. But their husband had a wicked temper matched by no other, and one step in the wrong direction sent them spiraling down and left them divorced or dead. And though I knew Christian would never intentionally hurt me, my biggest fear was losing him.

I looked up at him from where we sat, side-by-side in the third row pew of St. Peter ad Vincula, the parish church of the Tower of London. He was listening intently to our Beefeater tour guide as he recounted stories of treason, executions and subsequent church burials carried out on the orders of King Henry. I watched as Christian's face turned from bewilderment to fascination as the stories continued.

I thought about all the ways he was like Henry, two very influential men who had it all, wealth, power, status, and women. Sure, they had their own burdens to bear, but they also took great pride in taking care of others. Henry could be a very generous man when he wanted to be, and those that were close to him knew just how giving he was. He purchased estates for his friends, threw lavish parties in their honour, and made sure they had everything they needed. And when he loved a woman, he loved her passionately. He put her on a pedestal, and she became his world. But passion and power were sometimes a dangerous combination, and when he was crossed, his temper was uncontrollable. His first instinct was to punish.

That sounds just like my husband, but as accurate and equally terrifying as these conclusions were, I knew how absurd it was. Henry was vain, and spoiled, and insecure. He didn't care about his country, his policies changed with his mood, his frivolity left the nation in a state of economic crisis, and when he died, everyone pretty much hated him. That's not Christian. My Christian, he was humble, and honest, and self-sacrificing. He gave for the benefit of others, not merely to improve his reputation. He was a private man, a mystery, yes, even to me, his wife. But he was a good man with a good heart, and he loved me.

When I finally came back to reality, I looked again at Christian. His grey eyes were staring intensely at me, and I wondered how long he'd been looking. The church was quiet. When I looked around, I realized the tour had moved on, but I had been too caught-up in my own thoughts to realize it..

"What were you thinking about?" He asked.

"You." I said, telling a half truth. I didn't think Christian would appreciate my earlier comparison, and I didn't blame him, but my answer pleased him and that was good enough for me. He kissed me softly on the lips and I felt his tongue run along my lower lip. When we parted, I pressed my lips together, relishing the taste of him that lingered there, hoping it would remain until the next time our lips met.

I thought I had dodged that conversation, but I guess I was wrong. That evening, when I left the bathroom of our hotel suite, towel drying my wet hair, I noticed a sad look on Christian's face. He was sitting on the bed, fingering a visitor's guide from the Tour of London. His eyes were vacant, lost in thought. Surely, this was how I must have looked to him earlier.

"Christian?" I said, and he immediately looked up at me. "What is it?"

"Nothing" he replied dismissively, dropping the pamphlet on the nightstand and moving to unbutton his shirt.

"It's not nothing, Christian. Tell me."

"It's just, I just..." In a second, I was at his side on the bed, looking at him with pleading eyes. I didn't want him to shut down, he couldn't, not now. "Ana, today, in the church, I don't know what you were thinking about, but your face, it was." He did finish the thought. "And then when I asked, you said you were thinking about me, and I wondered how I could make you look so sad. Are you not enjoying yourself? Have I done something wrong?"

Oh god. I wanted him to open up, but I guess I wasn't ready for what he had to say. How do I tell him? How do I say I had compared him to one of the world's most hated monarchs? How do I explain why I felt the need to reflect on his dark past and criticize his faults? But then again, I wasn't doing that at all. I was thinking about these women who fell in love and married a king; a man they thought they knew, but he changed and they changed and fate wasn't on their side. That wasn't us at all.

We were this young couple, madly in love and falling for each other even more every day. And yes, there was so much about Christian I didn't know, so much he had yet to tell me. But I knew in my heart there were no secret. I knew him, maybe better than I knew myself. I was still changing, still figuring out who I was and what I wanted. But he was a bit older, mature, established. He was constant, unchanging, only growing. And he had the patience to let me change, to grow, to teach me, and hold my hand as I transitioned into the woman I wanted to be. Together, we had everything that Henry and his wives never had. We were the lucky ones.

Eventually I told him what I was thinking and how I felt. I came clean, knowing that if I hurt him, it would only be for a moment. And it did, but as he continued to listen to my ridiculous speech where I compared him to the former king of England. I explained that I knew it was a stupid comparison because divine right could not have been further from his reality. I also gave him a laundry list of reasons why he made me the luckiest woman in the world. The whole time my face flushed with embarrassment. I watched as his eyes grew dark and then light again.

"You beguile me." He finally said after a long pause in the conversation. I know. I beguile myself sometimes. Sensing my embarrassment, he took my heated face in his hands. "Ana, I am no king, but you are my queen. I love you."

He brought his lips to mine with an unexpected force that sent me crashing down to the bed beneath me. He followed me, our lips never breaking contact. He slipped his hands underneath my silk sleeping gown and raised it to my belly, running his hand along the side of my hip and thigh as he kissed me. Eventually he pulled off my gown completely, and undressed himself. Then he made love to me.

It was agonizingly slow, because he felt the need to cherish every inch of my body. His hands and lips explored areas I didn't even know could arouse me, the back of my knees, my elbows, my fingertips. I was on the edge the whole time and the fire just below my abdomen burned harder with my increasing need for him. When he finally entered, he moved so slowly, paying as much attention to the inside of my body as he had the rest of me. It felt incredible to finally have him inside me.

My eyes welled as an instinctive reaction to the pain and pleasure of our excruciatingly slow love making. A small part of me wishes he would just pick up the pace so I could reach my release, but I knew the intimacy of this experience could not be matched by a quick fuck. I had been teetering on the edge for so long, I could do little more than suck and lick and nip at his lips to distract myself from the heated pain that was building in me. But I had left it to Christian to find our tempo, and I knew he luxuriated in our natural and unhurried love making, just as much as he enjoyed our kinky playroom sex.

That thought, and the feel of his thumb grazing my clit, pushed me over the edge. I came, moaning softly into his ear. I wanted him to know how he made me feel. I wanted my cry to etch itself in his mind and find a home in his heart. He would never again have a reason to doubt my need for him.

When we were finished, our skin glistening with sweat and passion, he held me in his arms, wrapping himself around me as he fell asleep. Listened to the sound of his steady breathing, I thought about how happy he made me. I don't know what I did to deserve him. I thought for a second, that it was some sort of cosmic mistake, and that the elation I felt was meant for someone else. But it was too late for the universe to take back. We were married, and in love and nothing was going to change that.

As long as we had each other, we'd be alright.


End file.
